Theta Squad Viggies
by MsLanna
Summary: Short viggies about Haleen and her Thetas. Currently trying to retain a saving grace
1. Verda

**Title:** Verda  
**Timeframe:** Clone Wars  
**Characters:** Haleen, Mirsh, Gob

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_Verda_

It took some effort to stand under the battering she received from all sides, but she gave as good as she got, and by now she even had the minute timing down pat. Haleen slammed her fists onto her breastplate.

_duum motir_

She was amazed that she was still alive. Of course, she owed it all to Theta. Her fists connected with Mirsh's back plate repeatedly before she turned. Theta had not surrendered her, more than that, they had kept her. And no matter how tiring life as a clone was, by now, Haleen felt at home among them.

Blows rained down on her body armour as she sailed through the moves. This was going on too long; Haleen felt her muscles acutely. But at the same time, she felt at peace. The steady rhythm thrummed in her bones, and with each time her hands flew out another beat affirmed the pattern.

_Security, home, order_, it said, and more importantly, _we're all still alive._ But she could feel herself slacken, a hit almost too slow, almost too hard, almost missed. Forcing herself to concentrate Haleen gathered her last bits of strength. Strike out and shout, her fists crashed into her neighbour in the same rhythm she was assaulted. She knew, it looked impressive, but it felt better to be a part of it, even if you got knocked out by accident.

Turning on her heels, she caught sight of Gan, a huge grin on his face as he dealt out blows in all directions.

_nyn ures adenn_

Her hands lashed out, almost catching Gan at the chin, but he was in perfect harmony with her, with all of them. Her fist connected with his armoured shoulder, and she caught a wink before he turned away. The pattern began anew, another round in a dance that could last forever - if you could.

And there was this golden moment when you felt you could. The world was nothing but rhythm and movement, the mind completely engulfed in the repetitive pattern. It was a kind of battle meditation, if she had ever seen one. But you could ride the ridge of an avalanche only so long before it swallowed you.

The trooper next to her was ever so slightly off beat, too, but Haleen knew the sparkle in his eyes was hers, too. Only that nobody could see it, or ever would.

_Hal was strange. Hal liked his privacy. Hal had such a disfigured face, he never showed it._

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

In the privacy of their room, Haleen finally released the seal of her helmet. Taking a deep, unfiltered breath, she looked at her brothers; sweaty, exhilarated, tired - just as herself.

"No concussion this time, _vod_?" Gob teased.

She ribbed him friendly.

"I can help that, you know." He swung his helmet at her, but Haleen ducked away under it, ramming her shoulder into his belly. They crashed to the floor and Haleen used her momentum to roll over him. Coming to a halt behind Gob, she slapped him over the head.

"Don't mess with the trooper-wannabe," she told him, stretching her shoulders. "She's got no honour."

"And no chance." With a few languid moves, he had her pinned on her belly, her arm pulled across her back. Gob smirked shamelessly.

"Stop kidding around," Mirsh interrupted, pulling Gob up. "There's a long day waiting tomorrow."

_Which day wasn't?_ Haleen thought sadly, but he was right. She got up and headed for the shower.

"You only help her to get favoured when she's baking," Gob muttered.

Mirsh slapped him on the back. "Which shows why I am the head of this squad, and you are not."

The door closed behind Haleen.

_ka'rta._

The past months seemed longer than her whole life time before. Everything was more vibrant, intense and important here. And her new squad had become her heart - and soul. The only time she had ever felt as aggressively protective of anything, it had been Ice, Eyes - _Eyes_.

Those men were her boys, and she would look out for them. Even if they had to protect her more than she could ever repay them, there was things she could do. Small things, trifles. A_nd yet_-. Her ability to turn anything into a decent meal had impressed them a lot, not as much as being able to turn vaguely anything floury into cake, but they felt like the best catered squad in the army. Seeing what their usual fare was, Haleen tended to agree.

Theta was quickly becoming highly specialised on missions that included going under cover. Time to hide, time to cook, it was an easy equation. And with Haleen in their midst, the options of infiltration became tremendous.

Haleen looked at the vaguely familiar face in the mirror. There was a woman looking back, but last time she knew, there had still been a girl. Sadness and fire burned in the eyes of her reflection, mingling like the green and brown she remembered. She was not a girl anymore, she was a trooper.

_hett su dralshy'a_

Haleen rolled up content, the rhythm of Dha Werda Verde still humming in her bones.

* * *

Notes: The Mando, as it appears:

Verda - warriors

Duum motir - allowed to stand

Ny ures adenn - hit without mercy

Ka'rta - heart

Hett su dralshy'a - burn brighter still


	2. Never

Never 

"She will never make it," Mirsh commented looking down at the sleeping girl. She had again, fallen asleep before she had even managed to pull her blanket up. Exhaustion had etched deep lines into the young face, though she was double their age.

Gan stood next to him, looking down on the sleeping from and shrugged. "At least, she doesn't break down in exercise. It could be worse."

"Our performance is thirty percent below normal."

"It's not," Gob objected. "It is above normal, because we're still all here. And so is she."

Mirsh looked at his _vod_ doubtfully. Gob had taken a shine to the girl immediately, but he was the leader, he could not let his judgement be clouded by personal preference.

There was no doubt they liked Haleen. Her attempts at getting through the daily routines were hilarious and heart-breaking. She struggled with her gear as valiant as vain, and it was hard to say who had been hurt more by cutting off her hair: the squad or the girl. Now, the red-brown stubble covered her head like a fur cap.

The evening routines could sweep the matter from Mirsh's mind only a short while and even here, Haleen's presence lingered. In silent agreement, the three men had shifted the schedule around her, allowing her to be the first to shower and drop into bed. She was asleep long before any of them, and nothing short of a battle alarm could wake her.

_She was too weak, t__oo soft, to alien. She would never make it._

Not turning her in had been a group decision that had surprised the young woman most of all. Haleen knew she did not have anything useful to offer to the squad, that she would be but a burden. But she had the one thing that mattered _- the only thing that mattered -_ the will to fight and die for her brothers.

_We don't have much, but we protect what is ours_, Mirsh thought. _We have but us._ And now, somehow, 'us' included Haleen. She gurgled softly in her sleep, turned, and managed to get half a foot under the blanket.

With a sigh, Gan went to cover her up before swinging himself onto the upper bunk. Propping himself up on his elbows he looked down at Gob and Mirsh. "It's getting better, you know," he mused. "She's already carrying half her gear now."

This meant that the other half was lugged around by the three of them. Mirsh shook his head. It was no good.

"Don't worry, _vod_," Gob laid his hand on Mirsh's shoulder. "We know you just want the best for the squad."

Mirsh sat down on his own bunk, putting his face in his hands. He wanted Haleen gone far and fast. She was not a trained soldier and this war knew no mercy. Sooner, or sooner yet the battlefield would claim her. Even with his eyes shut, Mirsh could see her face. No, the battlefield did not deserve her.

But he could never change their minds, Mirsh knew. Haleen had taken them on in an act of desperate commitment, and there was but one way to react to such unwavering loyalty. Still he felt obliged to try. He was the leader; he was responsible; and if any of them died protecting the girl, it would be his burden. So he would point out what was the best for the squad, even if the other two didn't want to hear it. Even if he didn't want to hear it himself.

They could not hide her forever; that was a fact. He could see it in the eyes of Gob and Gan, they knew it. But he could also see their determination to fight the truth for as long as possible. He wondered what they saw in his face, he wanted her gone; he wanted her - gone.

Lying back in the darkness he promised himself to try convincing his brothers again tomorrow. There was always another day, always another chance; and in the end reason had to win out. Closing his eyes, Mirsh just hoped he wouldn't be there when it happened.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Three men rose in unison and began the well-choreographed dance of people used to very little space. Gan shaved, while Gob washed his jumpsuit, and Mirsh went to wake Haleen. The lines in her face had vanished overnight; instead of exhausted she now looked peaceful, almost happy. Mirsh realised that like his brothers, he knew when the exact moment was to give her up.

_Never._


	3. One Last Wish In A Million

One Last Wish in a Million

There was an eerie silence hanging over the battlefield, unreal and creepy. Haleen struggled forwards slowly, picking her way carefully. The comm frequency to Theta was still active, but the voices were subdued, remote, more like whispers in her head. They had left her behind, taking care of the last cleaning up with everybody else, but Haleen was at the end of her strength. It had been a long day, a long battle, and they had decided that she had done enough for one day.

The young woman felt guilty, but only a little. She was much too exhausted to feel much of anything. Slowly, she followed in the direction the others had left. It had been enough for a day - enough for a lifetime.

The ground was strewn with debris, broken droids and among them the white forms of the fallen clones. It seemed impossible to Haleen that she should not kneel down next to each and bury him. It seemed impossible that they should lie scattered like this, unheeded, like human droids - damaged, destroyed, discarded. Her exhaustion was a blessing, numbing her to the turmoil her mind tried to throw up.

She stepped over another white-armoured body, the ache in her heart but a dull throbbing. _So many, too many._ It seemed like a miracle that her boys were still all there. Three small icons blinked in her HUD, three men alive in an army of millions. Haleen wanted to fall asleep on the spot, fall asleep and just forget.

Her boots clattered against twisted metal. She stopped, untangling the remains of a droid's arm from her foot. When she straightened again, a movement caught the attention of her HUD, which zoomed in on the source directly. But there was no danger. Only one of the white forms that moved slightly -

Haleen was at his side before thinking, taking his hand in hers. "_Udesii, ner vod_." He didn't seem to hear her. She pressed his hand against her chest plate, and he turned his head to face her. He said something, but Haleen didn't hear a word.

"One moment, _vod_," she laid her other hand on his chest. "One moment."

Carefully, she reached for the seals of his helmet, releasing them, and softly removing it. The features of her brothers stared right back at her, Ice's features, the same dark eyes, the same curly hair, the same pain - she swallowed.

"_Udesii_," Haleen repeated, and then, almost like an afterthought, "we won."

His features relaxed a little, but the pain was still there. Haleen knew there was nothing she could do for him. Nothing she could do - _again_. She wished there was anything to say.

"You're an RC," he said suddenly.

Haleen nodded.

"Is it different, being an RC?"

Haleen tilted her head. How could she know? She was no RC, not really, but then, she was not even a clone. Looking down at the well-known face, she finally nodded. "I would say so."

"Better?"

"Different." Haleen thought back to her life before the GAR. "I don't think any kind of life is better than another. Not as long as is means something." She wanted to say that his life meant something to her, but she couldn't. You could not just tell a stranger, even if he was one of your own, or could you? She watched him take another laboured breath.

"I was there, Triple Zero, when so many of us got shore leave." A shine appeared in his eyes. "Do you know shore leave?"

Haleen shook her head. Since the day she had taken the armour of Eyes, she had not had a day off. But the idea that some troopers had gotten so lucky pleased her. "Tell me about Triple Zero, _vod_."

He coughed, but his features softened. "It huge, beautiful and full of people. So many people looking all so different. You would not believe it. Not two alike." He paused and Haleen wondered how the diversity she knew as normal would affect a clone. Immensely, it seemed.

Finally he went on, his voice almost inaudible. "There were girls, too, in Qibbu's Hut." Longing and wonder resounded in his tone. "They are so beautiful, girls, you know. Their eyes shining like a new deecee and their laughter -" He broke off, coughing again. "like being from a different dream. I liked them. I think, I think they might have liked me."

Haleen squeezed his hand, unable to say something. She was sure that there had been more than one girl more than happy about him. Clones were - irresistible. Too innocent, to capable, too cheerful with their sad eyes. "I am sure they did."

He shook his head slightly. "Not like that."

He fell silent and Haleen could say nothing. The filters of the helmet allowed much leeway with her voice, but if she opened her mouth now, she was sure to cry. Clone Troopers didn't cry. Ever.

"I wonder what it is like, to kiss one of them. But I will not find out, right, _vod_?"

Haleen shook her head sadly. He would not live, he would never find out how it was like.

"Too bad." It was but a sigh, as he closed his eyes. "I would have liked to know."

Haleen swallowed hard, realising she was about to break the man's hand. _His eyes in a thousand faces, fighting in a thousand places. _To end like this. His face was taut, and she could only guess what amount of pain was necessary to make a clone suffer. _Too much, too little, too much. _And now he would die without knowing -

_No! No, he would not._ Suppressing the shaking of her hands, Haleen released the seals of her helmet. He looked up at the hiss of released air and eyes went wide, when her face appeared from under the armour.

"And you will," she decided vehemently.

Softly, she pressed her lips to his. When she withdrew, a smile was on his face. Haleen returned it, running her hand through his hair. The amazement on his face was precious as he tried to work out what just happened. He touched his gloved hand to his lips, then to hers, and suddenly, he pulled her close in a desperate embrace.

Haleen laid still, her face squeezed against his breastplate. Pressing her eyes and lips closed tightly, she tried to chase the images of Eyes from her mind, his face, his grave, his sleeping form and his laughter. But those images were only followed by pictures of Theta Squad:

Mirsh frowning at Gob; Gan assembling his deecee, Dha Werda Verda; Gob cracking another joke; the hail of blaster fire in the battle; Mirsh correcting her posture while shooting; droids turning into shrapnel; Gan assembling his deecee, Gob about to charge at her; rows and rows of droids marching at them; Mirsh frowning at her; Haleen felt her mind begin to swim, suffocating under the maelstrom of impressions.

Suddenly, the pressure across her shoulders vanished; the arm that had just held her fell limply to the trooper's side. Haleen snapped back into the presence, gasping for air like a drowning man. She straightened up, looking at the now dead trooper.

The expression on his face was a strange mix of wonder and pain, as if he wasn't sure if her presence had been a blessing or a curse. Closing his eyes softly, Haleen realized she had no answer to that either. It might have been kind to let him experience this so he would know, but knowing might have been cruel because now he also knew what he had missed.

With shaking hands, Haleen replaced his helmet and her own. Standing up, she scanned the battlefield. How many dead troopers were there? How many last wishes unmet? Looking down at the dead clone she realised that whatever she did, it would never be enough.


	4. As The World Falls Down

As the world falls down

She sat curled up in front of the makeshift hut, hugging her knees and rocking herself desperately. She did not know what to do. She wanted to weep, cry and wake the whole planet with the noise, but on top of that she wanted to lash out at any given number of people; lash out and kill. All of them.

_As the pain sweeps through  
Makes no sense for you_

Haleen inhaled deeply, holding the breath, forcing the pressure into her taut body; her fists clenched and unclenched in time with her rocking motions. She hurt all over, and it was nothing physical. She felt ready to storm any place, any place - the chancellor's office, the Jedi Council, the Sep's home base, any place - and ram the vibroblades of her knuckle plates into the throat of the responsible persons. Chuck it in right under the jaw and watch the blood and life spurt out. Instead, she exhaled, fighting down her tears. There was nobody around to kill.

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_"Oh, do move back." Haleen elbowed in all directions, hitting random parts of Theta's armour plates. The three men gathered tightly around her the moment she turned back to her work. It was driving her up the wall._

_"If you don't give me breathing space this second," she turned around raising the kitchen knife at them, "I'll cut it myself. Disregarding vital bits!"_

_They moved a step backwards, never taking their eyes of the tray. _

_Haleen gave up all attempts of pretty looks and just glued the topping onto the cake. It would not live long enough to see scrutiny anyway. She sliced it roughly into big chunks before placing it in reach of her _vode_._

_"Good," Gob asserted with his mouth full. Gan and Mirsh didn't bother with talking at all._

_Carefully, she took a small bite. She had been too generous on the sugar, the local flour just didn't absorb the sweetness as much as she was used. Accordingly, the icing was sugary hell with nuts. But they didn't even notice. Without a word, the whole cake vanished in a matter of minutes._

_"So, do you still need dinner after that?" Haleen regarded the empty tray. They looked at her as if she had suggesting leaving their mission be and just return home._

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They didn't know cake. They didn't know dinner. They knew nothing. And they didn't even know it. Everything Haleen considered normal was foreign to them. As disorienting she had considered the HUD to be, they appeared just as lost confronted with normal life. Mealtimes, common foods, the concept of cooking as something more than killing something and roasting it; that was just the beginning. Oh, they had plenty of theory on almost everything, but experience, that was a whole different thing.

It might just be easier to list what they did know. War. War, death, and destruction. What kind of counterbalance could the intimacy of the squad be to all the suffering? She had seen scars on all of them, white lines of pain that broke her heart. How did they all come by them in such a young age?

_Vau_. That was what Eyes had said. Many of the scars were due to Vau. No matter that the squad still worshipped the ground he walked on; Haleen wished she'd never meet him. She was sure she could not contain herself. And considering the talk, she might well be dead a little later.

_Falling_

"Hey, _vod'ika_," it was Gan, sitting down next her, putting a protective arm around her shoulders. "You okay?"

Haleen shook her head without lifting it from her knees.

"Is it something we did? Mirsh is very upset about the thought it could have been him."

"Of course not!" She raise her head to look at him. "You could never -" She swallowed a sob, watching the shock on Gan's face morph into helpless determination.

"You will be," he assured her, patting her back.

"And you?" she asked back. "Will you be okay? Are you? You don't even know what they took from you!" That obviously made him uneasy. He did no see himself as a deprived man, he considered himself gifted, perfected. "It's so unfair!"

"Whatever you say, _vod'ika_," he held her. "Whatever you say."

_Falling in love_

* * *

_Note: 'As the World falls down' written by David Bowie and from the soundtrack of the movie 'Labyrinth'._


	5. Baptism of Fire

_Baptism of Fire_

They came marching at them row after row after row. An endless ocean of metal, a tide to swallow them all. There were to many droids; and they were so few.

_Six out __of one-hundred and forty-four,_ Haleen thought, replacing the power pack of her blaster almost without missing a shot. _Six out of one hundred and forty-four, and no telling what this will amount to. _The din of the battle was muffled by her helmet, but the channels of the intercom were a mess of noise, too. Worst of all were the sounds of the wounded or even dying. You could not see them in the fury of the battle, but you heard them; and there was no escape.

In the periphery of her vision Haleen saw another white shape thrown backwards by a blaster bolt, but there was no new scream in her helmet. Instant death. She emptied the next power pack into the approaching droids. She knew her hit ratio was below clone standard, but even if each shot had been a hit, it would not have mattered. The droids kept coming. They didn't care over how much shrapnel they went; they just. Kept. Coming.

Recharging her weapon again, she checked the viewport icons in her HUD. She knew that her brother's HUDs bristled with those, but she had to cut herself some slack. Handling the display okay was one thing, actually using it, something else completely. She had only the most important things on her screen, and Mirsh had a direct override for all functions. There were only three views displayed in her HUD, but those were the only that mattered.

Mirsh, Gan, Gob.  
Three out of an army of millions.  
Three men out of a legion.  
Only three.  
_Brothers in arms._

And still there were so many fighting at her side. It seemed unfair towards them somehow. Did they deserve her loyalty any less? Did they care at all? Or were they, as she was, caught up in the closely knit communities, each company for its own, each commando, each clone fighting first and foremost for the brothers he had been raised with?

She ducked instinctively as a gunship came up from behind, ripping through the droid lines. Air cover; finally. Haleen could not help it. _Where have you been until now_? she thought even as she jumped up in unison with the others, making for the enemy stronghold.

The ranks of tinnies showed holes now, neat lines where the gunship had ploughed a wave of blaster fire through them. Still they kept coming. As if they didn't see it, or worse, as if it didn't matter at all.

They charged into the field, filling the empty space with white armour, gutting the droid's ranks from within. They were not only shooting, either. Haleen had never seen so many ways to use a deecee to destroy a droid; most did not include firing it. That might have been all the better now. Close up, there were white-armoured figures in all directions. Friendly fire might sound all nice, but the mere thought gave her she creeps. Shot by your own. Shot nevertheless.

_Someday you'll return to your valleys and your farms... Very unlikely._ Haleen never thought of going home. Not because it had been a bad place. It had been a good place, actually; quite, rural. Growing up in peace was a privilege very few appreciated for the gift it was. At her side another trooper fell, and in the broken heartbeat she stopped, almost crouching down in disbelief, a barrage of fire whipped through the space she would have taken up otherwise.

She saved his number, in case she survived and found thoughts to thank him properly. There were no words big enough anyway. And there was nowhere to go to. The GAR was a huge war machine with no place for sentimentality, but it held all that was dear to her. Without her brothers, where would she go? Who would she be? Theta squad was not a place, but still. _They are a home now for me._

And with them, all clones, all commandos, and even ARCs had turned into a priority group. _Us first._ It didn't matter what they fought for, they'd never see the benefits of any of it. What mattered were your _vode_, the men that fought next to you, that covered your six, and laid down their lives.

Haleen fired another barrage, lying down a clean line of tinnies. She didn't like the front line. It scared her, it broke her. She was not made to see so many die. And she knew, she would never have stood a chance as a normal trooper. But then, they'd never have had a chance of meeting her either. Another salvo reached them and a bolt grazed her shoulder. Her armour held, but she stumbled. Cries of pain echoed through her head as she got up again, batted away the legs of an approaching droid and gutted it with her vibroblade. She had to get them all if she wanted to silence the screams on her HUD. She fired her rifle into the tide of metal.

Why are we here? Why am I here? We're the specialists, we don't do this. I don't do this. I _cannot_ do this!

And yet her rifle butted into the next droid in her path, and yet her blaster spit fire at them as fast as it could. _Me or them; me or them._ She had never been so scared in her life.

And then she was up against the wall next to Mirsh and Gob, laying down cover while Gan prepared for rapid entry. There was no time for an encouraging word, a gesture of acknowledgement. They were running on reflexes and adrenaline, all conscious thought wiped out by the mere fight for survival.

The wall shook, dust and debris raining down on them, and before she realised that they were through, she had already followed her _vode_ into the building. The lights on their HUDs flicked on, bathing the interior in soft blue light while their sensors overlaid the visuals with their own data.

A storeroom. Nobody around. Yet. They moved off into the direction off the control centre and Haleen flinched as a white armoured arm overtook them and stopped crashing against a wall. _Through these fields of destruction... . _She didn't dare close her eyes however shortly, but pointed her deecee into a crossing corridor which was thankfully as empty as the HUD had predicted.

Time stood still as they made their way into the heart of the building, the silence around them cast an eerie contrast to the noise still reaching through their helmet intercoms. In the dark corridors the noise of the ongoing battle seemed to magnify; a suffocating curtain of sound that would return to haunt her dreams. Haleen couldn't even hear her own rasping breath as she stood guard for the squad. The constant roar of orders, affirmations, and general screams deafened her as she peered into the darkness. As much as she tried to concentrate on her surroundings, the images the noise evoked almost blinded her.

_Let nobody come_, she prayed. _Let nobody come because I might shoot them or me_. A severed arm kept crashing against her inner eye, and only when it was suddenly cut short, she realised the wail for what if had been. _One down. Six out of one hundred and forty-four._ Time seemed endless and her heart stood still.

Mirsh passed her by, and by the time Haleen reacted, she was the last of the squad again, fighting to keep up with their pace. She was one of them now, treated like a commando, expected to perform like a commando, and if she got killed it would simply prove that she had not been good enough for a commando after all. It was not a conscious though. It was okay.

They broke free of the building deecees ready. The legion was already retreating, putting a front of tinnies between them. Haleen didn't fire. There was nothing friendly about it. Her _vode_ showered blaster bolts into the droids still, their aim never off.

The shockwave hit them, smacking them into the ground face first. Haleen was already getting up again, ignoring the ringing in her ears and bones.

"Stay down!" Mirsh's voice; recognisable in a million other voices almost like his.

Haleen flattened herself again. There were still three viewport icons shown on her HUD, the only thing that mattered. She closed her eyes as the gunships roared over the battlefield. The command centre was down, this was just cleaning up. She remained on the ground, images of casualties piling up behind her lids.

With a gasp her eyes snapped open as a heavy hand descended onto her shoulder. Gan; grabbing her, pulling her up, and the sound of the larty drowning out everything else. She kept counting three, repeating herself over and over; three, all there; three, all safe; three unwounded; three - _brothers in arms. _

She couldn't stop shaking.


	6. Revelations

Revelations

Haleen surveyed the room with resignation. The sparsely furnished room gave no warmth at all, the few decorations seemed to add to the gloom rather than alleviate it. A lonely star with drooping spikes clung to the window, it's drab yellow colour not really festive enough for the occasion. She straightened out it's edges, but as soon as she let go, they began to hang low again.

_What have I been thinking?_ She glanced around the room again, stopping at the door for a while. No really, what had she been thinking? That it would be like home again? It would not - could not. And certainly her mother had put more effort and resources into the festivities than had ever occurred to her.

She glanced into the kitchen over her shoulder. The small room bulged with food and she knew that her boys would not question her use of resources the least. Her boys? Was that how she thought of them? In the battle and on missions they were more like big brothers, her _vode_, protectors. It was only when they entered the intricate field of social customs that she thought of them as boys. Hers they were anyway.

She turned to start preparing the food. It would not be like home, but she would give her darnest to make it as similar as she could. With grim determination she began to chop at the ingredients.

"Oya, Hal, look what we found in the door," Gan's voice rang into the kitchen. "Seems some kind of greenery tried to root there." He held up the twig like a trophy.

"And there's decoration thingies all over the place," Gob amplified.

Haleen turned towards them for a moment to surprised to answer. Gob still held the mistletoe as if it was some kind of exotic animal he had shot. "That was decoration, too, you know." She pointed the tip of her knife at the twig. "But if you keep holding it like that, I'll be tempted to gut and cook it."

"Ew, it's poisonous," Gob spat as Gan lowered the twig. "Why do you put up poison over your door? To have it handy if some enemies enter?"

Haleen had absolutely forgotten that they were clones and as such had no experience with Fete Week at all. With a sigh, she put down the knife and took the mistletoe from Gan's hand. She felt their eyes on her back as she returned to the door to put it back up again.

"Here, I took it, I'll repair it," Gan said softly taking it from her. "And you tell us what this is all about. Poison over the door, indeed."

She had to swallow before she could speak, not really sure how to explain it. "It's Fete Week," she began, "and it's customary to decorate your homes, or the place you currently live in."

"With poison?" Mirsh asked suspiciously. He followed Gan's progress with Gob keeping him company.

"I don't know why with a poisonous plant," Haleen had to admit. "But you hang it up and when you happen to stand under it with somebody else, you give the other a kiss and tell how happy you are to be with them."

Mirsh seemed to consider that and his brow furrowed in concentration as he tried to find the inherent logic, while Gob took a more practical approach to the situation.

"Mirsh, _vod'ika_!" He suffocated the other in a bear hug before planting a big kiss on his lips. "I'm just glad to be your pod-brother! You're the best sergeant one could wish for. Let's celebrate that." A huge grin split his face from side to side.

Mirsh looked as if he was tempted to brush his arm over his mouth and looked not convinced the least. "That doesn't make any sense," he proclaimed.

Gob looked at Haleen questioningly, and she had to use all her self-control not to snigger out loud. "It was almost perfect," she began.

"See, I'm a natural." Gob clapped Mirsh on the back.

"But," Haleen had to grin despite herself, "if it is not your _cyar'ika_ you meet under the mistletoe, you normally kiss on the cheek."

"Ew, with all that stubble?" Gob exclaimed. He took a step away from Mirsh. Then an idea struck him. He moved back under the twig, pushed Mirsh into the room and grabbed Haleen instead. The hug was no less suffocating but in tune with her lecture he slapped a kiss onto each of her cheeks.

"Hal, pal! You're the best she-clone and _vod'ika_ ever! This squad wouldn't be what it is without you, and where would we be without your cooking skills." He held her at arms length. "Which reminds me, wasn't there something about dinner?" He dragged her off towards the kitchen.

Cooking with three clones was worse then herding cats. Of course, now Haleen had six hands to help, but there were also three mouths that had to try everything and were continuously conspiring with the helping hands to glean some treat. She felt that she was doing more admonishing that actual cooking. In the end, she just kicked them out with a bowl of nuts and cookies, telling them to put up a plan for the assassination while she worked.

Judging by the sound coming from the living area, Mirsh, Gan, and Gob were fighting about the cookies though, rather than planning. "You know I'll want to see the guard change plans later, right?" she called through the closed door.

There was silence followed by Gan opening the door a bit and poking his head in. "Do we have more cookies?" His eyes wandered around the kitchen. "If any survived this war, that is."

Haleen tried to shoo him out with the dough hooks, but unfortunately, they were covered in sticky sweet dough. With a grin, Gan grabbed them and closed the door again. Now, the fighting was even louder. For a moment Haleen considered walking in ant taking the hooks back, but as long as they were busy somehow - shaking her head she resumed her work.

When she had finally prepared everything and put the dishes on the fire, she found her _vode_ gathered around a holo of their target. She slipped onto a chair next to Mirsh, looking at the impossibilities stacked up before her. "Doesn't look that hard," she commented. "There's a few second gap at every guard change."

"Here," Mirsh pointed into the flickering image, "and there. No problem to get in at all. Changing room's here, nice long distance from the hall."

"We get in early and take up positions," Gan moved a marker around the image. "You insert later, with the rest of the crew, Gob's doing transports. We make on clean shot here, target is down and off we go."

"I'll hear you going?" Haleen wanted to know. It was amazing how two fully armoured Commandos talked about silently entering a building and sneaking out again. But it was what they did, and by now not much of a surprise to her anymore. Those bulky figures could move silently like snow.

"No way," Gan replied. "But once he doesn't show up for his speech, you can just slink out in the chaos. Even if you get questioned, you have an alibi."

Haleen nodded. Assassination in Fete Week was not her idea of passing the holiday, but this was war, and she was in the GAR. She could be happy to have as much time as she did to celebrate. "I'll take the dissembled Oneshot and prepare just in case."

Mirsh nodded still looking at the projection intently.

"What do we do if they have poisonous plants over their doors as well?" Gob grinned.

"Give them a Keldabe Kiss they won't forget," Haleen said. "Just remember to keep your helmet on."

"Yes, Ma'am," he mock saluted. "Just tell me how long wee have to suffer the smell of food without getting any?"

"Until the table is set." Haleen got up. Even with the main courses taking some more time to be done, starting now would be fine. Before she had reached the kitchen door, the table was already half finished. There was something desperately touching about the clones' relationship to food.

Besides a cup of broth and salad there was a huge plate of mixed starters. She watched Gob who sorted through his salad as if he expected to find some mistletoe in there, too. "So," he asked when he was sure there was no poisonous greenery lurking on his plate, "you were about to explain what this was all about."

Haleen, poked around on her plate for a moment. "It's traditional, one of the things we just celebrate, I never thought about it much. But it was nice to have all the family around for a bit."

Mirsh raised a brow. "You didn't sound too fond of family so far."

"That's core family, I guess," she hedged. "For Fete Week everybody would come for a visit, uncles, aunt, nieces, cousins; it was a big crowd."

"How's more family better then less?" Gan wanted to know reaching out for one of the remaining pastries.

"Maybe it was just easier to hide in the crowd," Haleen mused. "With only ma and my brothers around, I was pretty much in the focus of my mum. And she didn't like me being so - me."

"Don't get it," Gob shook his head. "You're fine."

"As half a man," Haleen almost laughed. "Not as docile woman waiting to be married off to her mother's man of choice." She looked at her plate. "If it wasn't for you, I'd still be stuck there, so - thanks a lot."

"Glad to help," Gob cleaned his plate with a piece of bread and looked at her hopefully.

Soon after, a neat pile of empty plates arrived at her place. Grabbing them she got up to get the next course. Since nothing short of a bronto-bird would have been big enough for three clones, Haleen had decided to avoid any upcoming bickering at the table, any bird only had two legs or wings, by getting a smaller fowl for each of them. With a side of steak, dumplings, veggies and bread to wipe up the sauces everybody should get enough.

As Mirsh, Gan, and Gob carried out the full platters, she put a huge fruitcake into the oven. It was much to late to bake it properly and soak it with syrup and liquors over weeks, Haleen had baked it half through before adding the liquids. With a bit of luck, the cake would turn out at least an imitation of the soft and soggy sweetness that crumbled in the mouth revealing pieces of fruit.

To her surprise, the men had waited for her without starting to eat.. "Help yourselves," she indicated the table as she sat down, "before I eat it all."

Laughing they set to the task of emptying the table again. Gob tried valiantly to hog the bread dumplings, but clones, being so very much alike, seldom developed a liking for food the others didn't fancy. Haleen made a mental not to make more of those next year.

_Next year._ If they were still alive then. If they were still together then. If they were still alive then, all of them. Haleen tried to shove those thoughts away. They were too sad for the occasion. Her _vode_ hadn't noticed, though, as they were currently fighting for the last dumpling.

"Mine!" Gob declared, trying to stab Mirsh while fending off Gan with his fork "Take your greedy paws off, it's got my name written on it." He actually had managed to cut something into the dumpling that might have been his name. "Don't tell me this is normal," Gob demanded, looking at her.

She giggled, picking a bone clean. "Not like this, but squabbling about food happens. I don't think I ever saw somebody attacking with knife and fork though."

"They probably don't have such annoying brothers, then," Gob decided, finally beat into cutting the dumpling into pieces.

"I wouldn't know," Haleen replied. "They're just used to other means of solving the conflict, I'd say."

"Civilised means." Mirsh looked pointedly at Gob. "Like sharing from the beginning."

"You're just guessing," Gob said, wiping up some sauce with his prize. "And we're not made for civilised anyway."

"Thank the Force," Haleen mumbled under her breath, but it was still heard.

"Must be really bad, considering how keen you were on leaving it," Gan teased. "Savage is easier. Shot, smash, stab, grab prize, run."

"What is our prize?" Mirsh wanted to know, shaking his head. "I haven't seen any so far."

"What about her?" Gob pointed his fork at Haleen. "Only we skipped the smashing and stabbing and just ran off with her."

"Doesn't count," Gan objected. "Your prize is supposed to play bed bunny for you."

"Yeah, you're right. Hal probably has the rabies," Gob agreed. "So Mirsh, you want her?"

Mirsh rolled his eyes, he looked uncomfortable. "_Di'kut_."

"I think one way was just to feed everybody until they were to full to squabble," Haleen intervened, passing on the cheese-crusted roots.

"Now that's a plan, I fully support," Gob said happily, taking the dish. "How long until it takes effect?"

"Too long," Mirsh decided.

"We'll try the polite thing then," Haleen suggested, "meaning you're not supposed to speak with your mouth full." Silence descended of the table, and she had trouble keeping the grin off her face.

"Okay," Gob finally said. "Time for desserts."

"Help me clean the battle field, and you can come a recce to the kitchen," she replied indicating the table.

"Yes, ma'am," Gob mock-saluted and began to stack empty platter precariously. If she had not seen him and his brothers do this before, Haleen would have been very worried about the dished, but the clones seemed to have a special sense that calculated the leeway for such stacks and how they could be stacked most impressively without actually tumbling.

Her mother's plan seemed to work on her new brothers, too. Once the cake was served, squabbling ceased to be a problem while each mused on how much of the dessert he might still be able to eat. She mostly poked her tiny piece of it, comparing it to the other Fete Week cakes she had had. It was falling awfully short of those, but her brothers had no way to compare.

"Something to look forward to when we return from the mission," Mirsh said indicating the remaining cake.

But Haleen didn't want to think about that just now; assassination was ugly enough any other time of the year. But clones didn't think like that. Fete Week was just another week, not even covered in their training. No experiences whatsoever, they didn't know at all what the cause they were fighting for meant to ordinary people. If it meant anything at all. Somehow Haleen doubted that the Separatists would be keen to abolish Fete Week. It was not a political holiday.

"I'll make sure it keeps," she said getting up before her glum thoughts showed on her face. The perception of clones when it came to reading faces was close to mind-reading. Living with the same face did that to you, living inside the helmets even more so. Haleen lowered the remainder of the cake back into the form, doused it with syrup and closed it fast.

Tomorrow was tomorrow, but now was all today. She picked up a bowl, the following would certainly be interesting.

"Marshmallows?" Mirsh raised a brow as she returned. "What for?"

"Now's the part where we gather around the fireplace and tell stories." Haleen handed him several long sticks. "It gives you something to do with your hands, stinks adorably and there's nothing like a scorched Marshmallow to make you realise you really had enough food for the day."

"'kay," Mirsh handed out the sticks, while Haleen brought a bowl of marshmallows and set it down before them. "What kind of story? I heard one in the canteen lately, about that Duro and the Twi'Lek -"

"Aw, we all heard that one," Gob interrupted him. "But it's not true, you know, not even a Twi'lek dancer can do _that_."

"She didn't say they had to be true," Mirsh defended himself. "Just stories. Besides I like how the Duro told that Toydorian to -"

"Can't we get the one about the lost brother?" Gan asked. "Or something to explain all this. I'm not complaining, but I'd like to know how come."

Mirsh stabbed a marshmallow and held it to the flamer grumbling under his breath.

"It's alright, Mirsh," Haleen said patting his shoulder. "There will be plenty of time for that one, too." It was not really meant for Fete week, though. She had heard it, too, and the only festive aspect could have been the electric lights, even if they had been applied in a most improper way. _How much did those men miss,_ she wondered, _not growing up normally. And how much could be made up for later?_ They had so little time.

The smell of burning sugar began to fill the room while Theta squad elevated scorching marshmallows to an art. "I'll start with the Lost Brother," Haleen said softly, picking up a foamy piece herself. "And then I'll tell the on my granny used to tell, about the man who didn't reassure life."

"Founds good to me," Gob said, his teeth stuck together with melted sugar.

"Once upon a time," Haleen began, "there was a father who had two sons." It was an old story, older than most others she knew, and it didn't surprise her at all, that her _vode_ latched on to it immediately. The son who got lost and went to many gruesome mistreating before he could finally return home was something they understood. The huge celebration at his safe return was something they could imagine, something that made sense in a way they didn't describe any closer because it wouldn't happen to them.

But their memory was amazing. After telling the story only once, she had had problems telling it again, because they had constantly interrupted her, correcting the wording. It had taken her several days to learn an agreed on version by heart.

"Yeah, just like us," Gan said lying back and closing his eyes, when she came to the big feast at the end of the story. "Only that we got it better, because a roast calf is just meat and we had _everything_."

"Can't expect self-supporters to feast like that," Mirsh argued. "They don't have shops like that."

"And they didn't have Hal around," Gob said, nudging the girl. "You would have filled that calf with another one, if there was nothing else."

"Maybe," she agreed. "But, unlike everybody else, I would have given that brother a proper thrashing between all those happy hugs. He could at least have sent a letter or something."

"I'll send you a letter if I get lost," Gob promised.

"You'll put your friggin _buy'ce_ back on and use the triangulation feature, if you get lost," Mirsh growled. "Or we'll help you find your _shebs_ with some friendly fire."

Unimpressed, Gob grabbed a handful of marshmallows. "You're no fun, Mirsh," he decided, spearing several of them before throwing a few at his brother.

Gan snatched of them, before Mirsh caught the rest of them easily. "What's that other story," he wanted to know.

"There was once a man, a very rich man, who thought nothing of sharing." Haleen took a deep breath. Her grandmother had started the story always with those exact words, and though the subject of it was probably nothing that concerned clones much, it just belonged to Fete Week like the decorations.

It was a long story and by the time the avaricious old man saw the error of his ways assisted by several ghosts, the marshmallows were empty and her brothers had consequentially started to burn their sticks instead.

"Do you think it would work on the chancellor, too?" Gob wondered. "Like two of us dress up and scare him senseless. And then we'd get pay, thirty days shore leave a year, and a Twi'Lek dancer each."

"Naw," Mirsh disagreed. "You can't be very scaredey as chancellor, not with all those creepy politicians around." He rubbed some ash from the tip his stick and began to draw a pattern onto it.

"Maybe he's afraid of spiders or something," Gob insisted. "We'd just have to find the weak spot."

"Or you could just ask you sergeant about it," Haleen suggested. "Maybe he can do something about it."

"If there's something as can be done, I bet Skirata's on it already," Gan said shaking his head. "He's always the first to kick up a fuss for us."

Instead of answering Haleen took the empty bowl to refill it. If this was what Skirata's efforts came up to, she wouldn't put much hope into that one. She refilled the bowl slowly, trying to think of something she could do to make things better. But right now, she couldn't think of anything she wasn't doing already. Not without giving her brothers up, and that was completely out of the question.

When she returned Mirsh was already half through the story about the Duro and the Twi'Lek. Gan picked up the idea telling about the black ops on Triple zero, which by now had turned into a fable on its own. Gob chimed in with a mission hilariously gone wrong. It was not the same kind of stories that usually got told around the fireside at this evening of the year. Today they were either elaborately elongated jokes or mission recounts.

But what had she expected? What kinds of story would a clone know to tell? And thinking about soldiers in general, what kind of story did those tell. Haleen leaned back, deciding not to interfere with the unique atmosphere of a Fete Week Story fest centred around death and destruction, admittedly in funny ways sometimes.

Finally, they ran out of stories. For a moment silence descended, emphasised by the soft crackling of the fire and an exploding marshmallow.

"What now?" Mirsh stretched his shoulders.

"Well," she considered for a moment, "once the older people were asleep we used to build a huge fire, get ourselves almost scorched and then go skinny dipping in the lake."

"Great idea!" Gan jumped up. "I've seen just the wood to chop down."

"I'm all game." Gob rushed after him.

Haleen got up to follow them. If they wanted to keep a low profile, a blazing fire in their backyard was no good idea. Not to mention there was no lake or river around for miles. Shaking her head she looked back towards Mirsh. He was right behind her, a torn look on his face. It was not easy being the responsible one, she guessed.

"Haleen," he began uncertainly, his eyes darting around. When he looked up, he suddenly went rigid. With his eyes closed, he leaned forward and gave her a soft kiss on the lips. Then he hurried after his brothers.

Shaken Haleen looked up to find the mistletoe directly above her. Her stomach cramped and a hand flew to her mouth. _Oh Force, no,_ she thought desperately, looking after Mirsh. _Oh. No!_


	7. With Eyes Wide Open

With Eyes Wide Open

Haleen lay staring at the bunk above her, trying to keep her eyes open with all her might. She did not want to sleep, did not want to close her eyes. There was terror lurking in the dark behind her lids, fear and pain, the horrors of war.

She wondered how the others stood it. Maybe it came with growing up in a war, even if it was just simulated. When death and destruction were normal, could they unfold their horror at all? Or did you just become immune to it? Her lids drooped and the young woman pulled them apart with her fingers. No sleep!

It had been much easier at the beginning. The routines had been so exhausting, so tiring that she had just dropped into her bunk at the end of the day, swallowed up by the blackness of sleep, deep, untroubled sleep. Sleep so deep that at times only a cattle prod could wake her. She smiled, thinking about the small burn marks on her right hip, proving the point and the fact that Gob tended to be overly enthusiastic about many things.

They were good men, her men, her squad, and brothers. Haleen could not imagine letting them go and face daily death on their own. There was not much she could do, but that she would do. Being there. Their faces rose before her minds eyes, so alike and still so different, even under their armour.

_it was a battlefield, it always was, white figures marching towards death in the form of rows upon rows of metal, shrapnel flying in all directions, men in white falling, getting torn to pieces, and their faces – always their faces -_

Her eyes snapped open again - blessed blackness.

How did they stand it? Each night, they just went to sleep like that. And all the wile she lay awake, staring into the darkness above her, no sound of nightmares to be heard. Her brothers slept as if it was nothing. Nothing. Millions of dead clones were nothing. For a short second she squeezed her eyes shut. But immediately, white armour flashed up, and red blaster bolts.

She pried her eyes open again, but keeping them open became increasingly difficult. She wanted to cry, but even then, her eyes closed and those images resurfaced. Her dreams were full of them. Her life was full of them. And nothing would change that except death. Maybe that was, why death was not feared so much in the ranks of the army. At least, it would make the suffering stop.

Haleen pinched the bridge of her nose. She would be overtired the next day anyway; either because she had not slept enough, or because sleep did not bring any recreation at all. For a while she just listened to the regular breathing of her _vode_. She envied them their sereneness even though she knew what they had gone through to acquire it.

Would _she_ ever sleep again?


	8. Saving Grace

Saving Grace

Another mission almost accomplished. Haleen squatted behind an upturned container as a series of blasts shook the ground. Hoisting her deecee, she peered over the rim at the mess around her. Apart from the reinforced commando structures all buildings in the vicinity had been reduced to rubble. Almost there, just don't count the civilian victims.

Haleen climbed the remains of a house her HUD had declared statically stable, facing her target. The squad had planted a bomb scare before moving in, but in war you could never be sure how serious people took it. Not too serious, she noted, passing over the red stains with only a glance. From her elevated position she watched the command bunker for a while. With half an eye she checked her brothers' advance through their viewport icons. Everything progresses within the limits.

Concentrating on her own tasks, Haleen lined up her deecee with the HUD and aimed at the guards that had exited the bunker. They scanned the surroundings, finding nothing that moved in the remains of the town. The young woman fired in rapid succession, felling a guard with each shot. Her precision was nearing the impeccability of her _vode_. Strapping the weapon to her back, she returned to the ground, treading carefully towards the bunker.

Half a house lay across her path, furniture and everyday items strewn widely all over the place. Civilians. It did no good to think about. Haleen tried to brush the thoughts away. There was no place for civilians in war. They were always a liability; the old woman offering you fruit may have a bomb buried at the bottom of her basket, the bleeding child might just be bait to draw you from cover, and if all else failed, they made good living shields. Not here, though. Her heat detector outlined a body hidden from view cooling down quickly.

"Everybody has a saving grace," her grandmother had kept saying, and for a moment the sadness was wiped from her face. Haleen had liked her a lot, though the rest of the family had kept some wary distance she had never come to understand. A topic unspoken hung between her granny and the family, and nobody condescended to forget. Sorrow had dug trenches in her grandmother's face, undeniable, irrevocable, but sometimes, in a rare moment, they were brushed aside, overpowered by the sparkle in her eyes. More often than not, she had told Haleen a few words that had stuck. Like this. "Everybody has a saving grace…"

She had to think of the old woman now, as the rubble of a town crunched under her boots, and the moaning in the ruins went unheeded. She was losing it, even now. Watching the progress of her brothers, marching through the self-made ruin, there was no place for a saving grace. There was space only for following orders, killing, surviving. What would her grandmother say if she could see her now? A miraculously whole plate splintered into fragments under her heel. This war demanded everything she had.

The bunker was a windowless square, sticking out of the ground only for about two meters with only one thick blast door leading out. Whoever was inside now was trapped. Haleen put up a series of simple but effective traps in case one of the inhabitants decided to come out and play. After preparing the charges, she took out the special drill they had been given for the mission and set to work. A dress caught under a brick flapped against her shin in the wind.

The drill worked only half as well as promised, but that was intel for you. Haleen set her timers on double, making sure her angle matched the schematics displayed in the HUD. If not placed correct, the bunked wouldn't collapse when the charges were detonated. She had just placed the first set of charges, when the booby-trap went off. The young woman was around the building before the three survivors could disentangle themselves from the stokhli net. At short range they were an unpredictable web of possible death since the stun charge went off as it liked. Not that it mattered. The net was already solidifying, freezing the trapped men in place.

She disposed of them with three men with inaccurate shots, their wriggling annoying her. It was too time consuming to take proper aim, and in the end, they would die. "Everybody has a saving grace", her grandmother's voice echoed in Haleen's head. "No matter what we do, which atrocities we commit, there is this one trait that will save us, Lee; the reason that rightens our wrongs." It hurt Hal to prove her grandmother wrong. Putting the drill onto the wall again she pushed the thoughts away. No place for a saving grace.

Setting the last charges Haleen made for the assembly point, crushing the remains of civilisations under her boots. There was nothing worth saving.

Mirsh was already finished then, squatting behind some cover and detonating the charges, while Gob was still on his way, his target being furthest from them all. Taking cover behind an upturned cargo transport herself she triggered her remote. This time the ground shook noticeably. For a moment she just sat and stared into the void then she turned and checked the scene with her HUD. As predicted the bunker had collapsed, and the heat radiators had done a remarkable job. If the personnel could stand temperatures over three hundred degrees, they might just survive. She got up, resuming her walk towards the assembly point. No, there was no saving grace left for her. This had demanded everything.

Suddenly, Gob's viewpoint icon burst into a flurry of activity. Shots erupted and without thinking Haleen changed her course towards him. "Hal intercepting," she announced over the comm., getting her deecee ready. Gob's view showed mostly rubble by now. She enlarged his view until it took half of her display and browsed through all the important data his HUD fed her. It was slightly disorienting, but Haleen did not slow down. His attackers had taken cover now, three of them already lying on the ground, only one alive; barely.

The ground shook slightly, as Gan detonated his charges, but as with her and Mirsh, procedure demanded he waited for some time before checking and finally being free to help. Trying to hurry up even more, Haleen memorised the positions of the targets, they were about fifteen. Gob didn't move, but what worried her more was that he didn't talk.

"Status, Gob," Mirsh's voice rang over the comm. There was no answer.

"Approaching from thirty-three degrees," Haleen said. "ETA sixty-five."

"Copy," Mirsh affirmed. "One-hundred-ninety-three degrees here, ETA one-hundred-fifty.

"Copy, going in." Haleen had to slow down as she drew closer. Running with full gear was no problem anymore; just a few adjustments on the armour had helped greatly. Stealth still gave her trouble, though. And she would not let the war take the last thing she had from her. Switching Gob's view back into an icon she arrived just as the shooting started again.

"Clear shots on three," she announced before neatly putting the targets down. The rest of the attackers spread and took cover, taking the new threat into consideration. "Three cleared, moving on to seventy-two."

"Coming in at two-hundred-eighty-four," Gan spoke up. "ETA eighty-three."

"Copy," Mirsh confirmed. "Clear shot on one." There was a short pause. "Gan, swerve to seven, Hal zero in, they found him!" His voice suddenly urged them.

"Copy!" their two voices said in unison.

One squad, one voice – almost. She would not let the war take that this from her. Clamping her lips together Haleen barraged into the middle of the Separatists, drawing their fire and managing to incapacitate another target. The air around her lit up with blaster bolts, the impact on her back plate almost threw her to the ground, but she didn't care as she made her way towards Gob. She didn't notice when the fire became less, and fewer shots were aimed at her.

Crashing to the ground beside her brother, Haleen checked his vital signs. One of the enemies decided to get smart and creep up to her while she had her back turned. A blip in her HUD showed him clear as daylight. Without moving her head, Haleen aligned her blaster out under her arm, waiting for the HUD to announce the clear shot.

"Not a chance," she murmured as she pulled the trigger.

"All incapacitated," Gan announced. "Commencing termination."

Mirsh appeared beside her, but Haleen shook her head slightly, indicating Gob's target bunker. With a nod he was off again, finishing what Gob had only just started. The young woman was still amazed at the wealth of information that could be conveyed by a turn of the head, or flick of a hand. She had expected the men to talk more within those helmets, but obviously that was not even necessary.

Gob's signs were stable; the reason for his unconsciousness would have to wait. Haleen removed his pack, but when she began to attach it to hers Gan interrupted her with a short shake of his head. Hal left the pack to him and placed Gob's arms on his chest instead. Taking up his feet she followed Gan who held up his shoulders. They hurried out of the danger zone as fast as they could while Mirsh mad short work of the remaining bunker.

_Don't let him die_, Haleen prayed as she stumbled after Gan. _Just don't let him die_. The war had taken everything she had already, up to her last saving grace, but if she had a say in it, it would not get her _vode_. Gan rounded the wall of a house, taking cover behind it in the remains of a living room. Haleen ripped her med pack out as he removed Gob's helmet. She might have lost everything else, but the war _would not_ get all she had.

She lifted the scanner off the unmoving body. _No, it would _not_ get everything._


	9. Obvious Disguises

**Note**: Takes place before 'Revelations'

.

Obvious diguises

"This is _so_ the last time I do this!"

Haleen stalked past her brothers into the fresher. The woman in the mirror had little resemblance to how she thought of herself. She stuck her tongue out at it before she began to wash away the layers of make-up. Using loads of soap, the young woman rubbed at her face until not a trace of the make-up was left and the skin turned brightly red.

On her way out, she grabbed a half-eaten piece of cake from Gan's hand and stuffed it into her mouth. Unable to talk, she gesticulated instead, shaking her head vehemently. Finally, she flopped down on a couch, tugging at the flowery summer dress and rolling her eyes exaggeratedly.

"You look very good in it," Mirsh said automatically.

"Yeah, if we took in women, you'd be first on our list," Gob grinned.

"Funny," Haleen grumbled. "At least, I got what we wanted. Change of guards this night will change into one guard only. I'll make sure he's out when you arrive. All you have to do is come to where I am, and asset denial's under way." She played with the teardrop pendant hanging from a chain around her neck.

"We'll find you _vod'ika_, we always do." Gan assured her. "And dead or not, he won't come charging after you once we passed by."

"Just hurry up," Haleen sighed. "Tonight he won't be satisfied with just kissing."

"He's kissing you?" Mirsh sat up.

"What did you expect?" Somehow it seemed safer to Haleen not to mention getting fumbled. "That I bring a deck of cards and we play sabbacc all day long? Would be nice, but that's not how men work. Unfortunately."

"I'll kill him." Mirsh simply said. There was a look in his eyes that Haleen was a scared to place. "They'll all die. It's what you get for joining the wrong side of the war."

Even if 'wrong' simply asserted itself by being the side the clones pointed their blasters at. Haleen felt still a bit uneasy. She didn't even know why the war was fought. Politics had been one of her least worries.

And its importance had not risen a iota since she had accidentally joined the army. If anything, it mattered even less. What did matter, were her brothers. If she had to blow up a factory and all it's workers to save them, she would. End justifying the means, and those were mean indeed. Not that it mattered any more.

"As if it wasn't stupid enough to produce toxic gas against troops that bring their own-" Mirsh was interrupted by the comm.

Automatically, Haleen moved out of the filed of vision while Gan ad Gob closed the gap between her and the transmitter.

Mirsh activated the holo and the picture of a man in what seemed to be Mando armour appeared in the picture. Haleen could not make out much, being to far away, and the transmission flickered with static.

"Sergeant Skiarta," Mirsh saluted.

"RC-4348, new orders." His voice crackled through the room. Haleen wondered how old he was, he looked old. "After finishing your mission, you will report to Null 6 on Bilbringi. You are under his command until ordered otherwise. Copy?"

"Yes, Sir!" Mirsh confirmed. "Any other orders?"

"Hurry!" The connection was broken.

Theta looked at each other, not sure what to make of it.

"Probably more undercover work," Gob finally said. "We're the firefeking best squad for that. Must have reached command by now."

"What's a Null-ARC?" Haleen wanted to know.

The three men looked at each other uneasy. "Well," Mirsh began, "in the beginning, the Kaminoans tried to enhance our genes -"

"There's something about you that can be enhanced?"

"Not really," Mirsh smiled. "But the Kaminoans tried anyway. They built a batch of twelve, only six of which survived incubation. They are clones, but very different." He hesitated. "They are very capable, resilient, and intelligent, but - unreliable."

"Erratic," Gan supplied.

"Mad as hatters," Gob added happily.

"Stay away from him, okay?" Mirsh looked worried.

"Will do," Haleen agreed. "We're not going to let him in on the secret, are we?"

"No way!" Three man answered as one.

"In that case, I better get something to eat ready. I can't do this on an empty stomach."

There was no argument. It was probably the only subject Haleen never encountered any argument. Eat when you can, what you can, as much as you can. Dry rats were sure to catch up with you.

* * *

Her heels clicked loudly on the pavement and Haleen had to do her best not to flinch with each sound. It was not at all what stealth meant. But then, she was not a trooper right now but a simple woman on her way to meet with her man. How she hated it.

But she would do whatever necessary. And it was something none of her _vode_ could do. And she could, so she would. The base drew closer and she slowed down, now the tricky part began. Haleen concentrated on swaying her hips while walking and looking like a happy go lucky girl searching for adventure.

She did not have to search long. Mako was on guard duty at the side entrance. His face lit up with a huge grin when he saw her approaching, and Haleen did her best to reciprocate the effect.

"Hi love," he said softly, kissing her on the cheek.

"Hey soldier," Haleen batted her eyes and slipping her arm around his waist. "So, you found a quite little place for us?"

"You bet." His grin conveyed a wealth of information she would rather have ignored, but Haleen played along. She followed him to the entrance where his friend stood watch. He grinned as broadly as if he was going to get a share of her, too. Haleen greeted him with a smile and gave him the assorted sweets. "For your troubles."

He looked at it uncertain.

Haleen hesitated and then reached out as if to take it back. "Sorry, that was stupid of me, was it not? You are probably not allowed to take anything."

"We must be careful because of poison," he explained.

Haleen's mouth formed a surprised 'oh'. "I didn't think of that. Is it really that dangerous. I'll just keep them." She closed her hand over the bag and tugged at it.

The soldier hang on for a second but then thought better of it. "It is a kind gesture I will remembered still," he said as he let go of the bag.

Haleen pocketed it with an embarrassed shrug. Then she followed Mako into the fortress. "Did I offend him badly?" she asked.

"You could not know." Mako squeezed her hand. "And if you want, we can eat the candy."

"If we find the time," Haleen grinned. He led her into a small room lined with shelves. In a corner somebody had stacked up blankets to build a makeshift bed. She touched her pendant, activation the homing beacon as she looked around. "So, this is it huh?"

"It's not much," Mako agreed, but with you, it can be everything you can imagine." He ran his hand up her arm. "Just close your eyes," he whispered into her ear.

Haleen obliged and tried to ignore his hand wandering down along her back. The poison in the bag worked slow, it would take at least ten minutes to take effect. She sighed. Mako took that as a sign of happy consent and pulled her into a tight hug. Working the bag of sweets out of her pocket, Haleen made sure to press it against his neck while she returned the kiss. There was hope it would slow him down a bit and things would not end too bad.

Suddenly she broke free staring at his features. What did keep her from killing him ehre and now anyway? She was a commando; this was an attack. Dropping the candy, she ran her fingers along his cheek. She had no weapon but herself, but she had trained; hard and long. Would she be able to overwhelm Mako?

"A penny for your thoughts," he whispered, placing a kiss on her thumb.

She smiled, shaking her head. "You don't want to know what I want to do with you."

"On the contrary." His mouth wandered down her neck. "I want to hear every little detail."

"Okay." Haleen took a deep breath and raised his head again so his face was lever with hers. "But I did warn you." I want to place my hands on your chest," she accompanied her words with the movements. Want to slip around you, and lean against your back and feel safe. Feel the strong muscles of your chest; follow your collarbones with my fingertips.

Breathing against him Haleen braced herself. "And then, just because I can," she lifted one hand, bending it backwards so the wrist was exposed, "I want to slam my wrist against your Adam's apple to kill you."

As she did just that along with her words, Mako did not even find the time to protest. Gurgling he fell to the ground, clutching his throat.

'Sloppy work,' Haleen thought as she leaned down. It would be so much harder to kill him now that he was helpless and dying. This job sucked.

"Surprise!" The door was slammed open and Mirsh stood in it, his weapon ready. "Good work," he commented, looking at the man on the ground. He finished him off with a single shot. "Gan and Gob are at the command centre," he threw her a weapon. "Ready to blow this up?"

"More than you can imagine." Haleen caught the weapon. She followed Mirsh through the fortress, glad to leave the point to him. She felt extremely vulnerable in her dress. But that would not stop her. As Mirsh made a rapid entry into the generator room, Haleen laid down cover. The dress seemed to have its very own armour effect as the soldiers hesitated to shoot at her. That second was time enough to take them down.

Che covered the entrance as Mirsh placed the explosives. It made her nervous to be locked out of the squad communications, not to know what Gan and Gob where doing, where they were and what kind of opposition they faced. Chewing on her lip, she prayed for the mission to be over.

Finally, Mirsh returned, taking the point again. "They're clear already," he called to Haleen. She nodded, already seeing the forms of her brothers in the doorway leading outside. To her surprise, she overtook them, running with the three men following closely. How she wished to be in on the comm line.

The ground started to rumble and she tried to speed up. It became difficult to stay upright as the soil started to shake. Half Haleen expected one of her brothers to lend a steadying arm, but before she could wonder why that didn't happen, a roar erupted in her ears and the fortress exploded.

Haleen found herself on the ground, the breath knocked out of her by a mountain of armoured men above her, covering her from the heatwave and shrapnel. The plates poked into her flesh painfully, but she closed her eyes; it felt a million times better than Mako's touch.


End file.
